My India

I had visions of returning from India feeling enlightened and looking emaciated – the enlightenment would be from the morning, noon and night yoga sessions that I would partake in and the drop in dress size would inevitably be caused by the worst bout of Delhi belly ever recorded by man.

The pressure was on – not only did my 30th loom a mere two weeks post my return (hence the quest for enlightenment and all other things related to turning the big three oh) but I had a bridesmaids dress to fit into – the dire need for Delhi belly need not be explained further.

Sadly – my trip to India, the land of Saints, gods, demi-gods and all things mystical and magical, bestowed upon me neither.

Setting off from Johannesburg with my vegetarian, yoga loving best friend, we arrived in Delhi with a number of pre-conceived, post Shantaram reading, notions on India. Rather grubby, smelly and definitely full of all sorts of nasty bugs, Delhi is a thriving city, which constantly and unpredictably contrasts between the old and new, extreme poverty and extreme wealth.

Western, especially blonde female tourists are a fascination for the locals who, if you fit the description, will stop you to have their picture taken with them. Great for the many family portraits that we now feature in but not so great for the ones taken with the young single guys who will forever onwards claim to have bedded either one or sometimes both of us – the digital revolution has made photo taking a new sport in India.

From Delhi we set off with driver to the Rajasthan district – think Agra and the Taj Mahal, the pink city of Jaipur, the one horse hippy town of Pushkar and the city of lakes and palaces Udaipur, which will be forever immortalised by the 1980’s James Bond movie Octopusssy.

Rajasthan highlights:

The Taj Mahal at sunrise. Sadly it was a gloomy day, but a spectacular sight nevertheless - sans sunshine.

A three-hour long Bollywood blockbuster, which we watched minus sub-titles, in Jaipur’s famous art deco meringue shaped movie theatre.

Camel trekking - we hooked this up in Pushkar – a Hindu pilgrimage city which has banned all public displays of affection, alcohol, eggs and meat - if you want to smoke pot however, look no further.

A cooking course in Udaipur - we learnt how to make everything from roti, to coriander chutney, to paneer and the most delicious vegetarian curries. Talking about food, in general it's really good and if you avoid the tourist hot spots, you're likely to find it for a steal. The restaurants are not the cleanest looking places but the food is great, as is the super cheap food you’ll find on the streets. I still find myself dreaming about the veg curry bomb that we shared in Jaipur. Two weeks into our trip and the bridesmaids dress didn’t stand a chance!

Driving in India is like playing a game of chicken - fuel - check. Hooter - check. Side mirror tucked in to avoid rear view - check. Drive. Truck, bus, camel, dog, elephant, cow in full frontal view - drive. At the very last second, sharp left. Stopping of course is only for the most sacred of creatures – the holy cow.

After two weeks of near fatal road travel, I was only too happy to embark on our next adventure into the South of India. From Udaipur we flew into Mumbai and then into Bangalore. From Bangalore we caught a bus into Mysore, where we stayed in a dodgy over-priced hostel and then the following day caught another bus up into the mountains of Madikeri.

India is large and travelling from one place to another, even if only a couple hundred of kilometres away, can take up as much as a whole day. The above-mentioned plane, taxi, bus, auto rickshaw affair took a good three days before we eventually arrived, internal organs forever repositioned from the bumpy bus drive, at the most wonderful organic rainforest retreat up in the mountains of Madikeri.

This is where we spent three days of pure bliss, taking long hikes in and around the surrounds, touring the organic coffee plantation and eating the purest, fresh from the earth, food – India is vegetarian heaven!

Preparing for yet another day long bus, plane, taxi, auto rickshaw journey, we left Madikeri after one last early morning hike to embark on our trip into Kerala – India’s answer to the land of milk and honey.

The South of India, Kerala in particular, could not be more different from the North. This is where India shows its more gentle relaxed side - an inviting respite from the frantic chaos that epitomises the rest of the country.

Kerala highlights:

A trip on one of the thousands of houseboats scattering the backwaters is one of the most relaxing experiences you’ll ever have – as long as you deal with a reputable company that is. We heard of one Swedish tourist whose houseboat was infested with elephant sized rats! Back to our experience - imagine beautiful sunsets, excellent food, fresh air, open waters…. so romantic, a pity almost that my cuddle companion was my best friend – oh, what could have been…

With its dramatic cliff-top setting and perfect beaches, Varkala is an idyllic beach town. This is where we headed after hot-footing it out of V Jay’s Rice Paddy Guest House – sometimes the Rough Guides and Lonely Planets get it wrong – V Jay’s was expensive and dull.

From Varkala we headed to Goa – India’s tourist hot spot where the British and Australians flock in droves. Getting there with Kingfisher Airlines, a budget airline owned by Vijay Mallya – India’s very own Richard Branson, involved four stopovers, with each flight being about 35 minutes long.

Goa highlights:

Introducing the silent party – an all night rave, with one crucial factor missing - the noise. Held on Palolem beach, the silent parties entail a stand off between two DJs competing entirely in your headspace via cordless headphones. Alcohol which is frowned upon in many other areas in India is available on tap, as are illegal drugs – from hash to cocaine – be warned though, authorities may be willing to turn a blind eye to a bunch of foreigners gyrating to their own beat, but this is where they draw the line, so to speak.

Welcome to Home. Offering freshly ground coffee and delicious post silent party breakfasts, Home, which lies metres off the Patnem beach shore is a stellar find. Run by an ex-pat British couple, Home offers an excellent breakfast, lunch and dinner spread. The cucumber- infused G&T’s are also a hit.

Treat yourself to an Ayurvedic massage with Subudhi at the Bhakti Kutir eco-friendly resort. Trained at the University of Pune in India, Subudhi tunes into your physical and psychic being (this is India after all), offering perhaps one of the best massages that you will ever have. Ayurveda, a natural Indian healing system is offered pretty much everywhere you go in India – be careful though that you choose a reputable therapist, a lot of places appear to have jumped onto the Ayurvedic bandwagon.

Our trip to India was sadly drawing to an end – with one last day left to explore Mumbai, self-reflection was inevitable. My friend and I had travelled to the birthplace of yoga, a favourite past time in South Africa, and yet we chose rather to sleep in and indulge on the other delights on offer in this mystical and strange place called India. We had in one month traipsed from the North to the South and only knew perhaps a day in advance where our next destination would be.

Perhaps there is a slight disappointment that the enlightened being I imagined coming back as, had failed to be roused but then again, perhaps that’s something I don’t need India for. It’s something I need to find for myself, regardless of time and place.
Let’s face it – Delhi belly was a quick fix diet, if I really want to lose the weight, I actually have to work at it – the same goes I suppose for the state of enlightenment that I will continue to search for now that I am in my 30s - and loving it.

Putting foot into Rajasthan

Driving in India is like playing a game of chicken - gas - check. Horn - check. Side mirror tucked in to avoid rear view - check. Drive. Truck, car, camel, dog, elephant, cow in full frontal view - drive. At the very last second, sharp left to avoid oncoming object. I don't like playing chicken - nor do I like driving in India. This being the best and most practical way to get around, I really had no choice other than to hold tight and prey that we get to our next destination - so far, so good.

Alcohol not being readily available and expensive, Karen and I decided to book an aryuvedic massage to assist with unwinding from the above mentioned stress. Instructed to strip (onderbroek included - yikes!), we then had hot oil drizzled on our svelte (let's just pretend here) bodies, which was then rubbed in - head to toe (as in ALL over). Getting back on the road suddenly had its appeal.

Highlights to date:

Visiting the Taj Mahal at sunrise (sadly it was a gloomy day, but a spectacular sight nevertheless - sans sunshine).

Our hotel room in Udaipur - imagine panaramic views of this ancient city, lakes, palaces etc (not sure how we scored this one but do you see me complaining?) If you're into Bond, this is where Octopusssy was shot in the 80's - if you're not, hire the movie anyway to get a glimpse of our surrounds.

Camel trekking - we hooked this up in Pushka - a one horse hippy town that has banned all public displays of affection, alcohol, eggs and meat - if you want to smoke pot however, look no further. Pushka for me will always be remembered for its cows - one of which I got into an altercation with - it tackled me, I tackled it back. It won. Not exactly sure why we chose to go to Pushka - think it was for the yoga.

Our Indian cooking course in Udaipur definitely goes down as the best evening yet - we did this on Christmas eve and had the most fantastic feast - cannot wait to show off my new culinary skills at home. Talking about food - in general it's really good and if you avoid the tourist hot spots, you're likely to find it for a steal. The restaurants are generelly not the cleanest looking places and I have no idea as to what exactly goes on behind the closed doors of the kitchen but the food is great (even if I don't always know exactly what it is that I'm eating). The veg curry bomb in Jaipur and the masala dosa being firm favourites at the moment.

What's a trip to India without a bit of Bollywood? Going to the movies is really popular here - getting quite involved in a 3 hour flik, I found myself leering and jeering with the masses as the hero (THE Shah Kahn - think India's answer to Brad Pitt, George Clooney) finally found love - bearing in mind this was all in Hindi with no sub-titles - I'm gathering this is why we all stood up and clapped in the end....

Getting around in India, is not particularly easy - especially when you have a limitted amount of time, there are also a lot of unscrupolous "travel agents" waiting to pounce on unsuspecting tourists. Thanks to the good old trusted Lonely Planet, we knew this before hand and made sure our Mr Feroz wasn't going to pocket our cash minus a holiday. If you ever are planning a trip into this mammoth country, I would recommend him as your right hand man - Feroz Baktoo: indiantravelconsultant@yahoo.com, www.indiantravelconsultants.com.

If your trip has already been planned and you're looking for a driver to get you from A to Z - clean-cut Lalit is your man - a bit of a card, Lalit plays chicken really well - a neccessity when driving in India. He'll offer his services at a great rate - everything in India is negotiable! (Mobile: (0091) 098 6894 4503)

We're off to Bangalore in the South today - not too sure where we'll be going or how we'll be getting there but a trip up into the mountains, a river boat on the backwaters in Kerala and a bit of beach are on our agenda.

Living it massive in India

Arrived in Delhi and about to set off with driver (sounds so fancy but apparently this is how one does these things) to Rajasthan - an 8 day road trip into Agra (to see the Taj at sunrise), then into Jaipur, the pink city and Udaipur, the city of lakes and palaces for Christmas. We then we fly into Bangalore, which is in the South of India. Who knows what we´ll be doing from there? I feel like a bit of a cop out - not roughing it quite as much as expected but then again I only have a month and don´t have all the time in the world to work out train schedules and tackle Delhi belly.

Having the most incredible time - so far India has been everything expected and unexpected - rather grubby, smelly and definitely full of all sorts of nasty bugs but then at the same time very spiritual, colourful and awe inspiring. Am super pleased to be travelling with Kari - we've become quite the celebrities, being stopped all the time for people to have their family pics with us - yes, people are actually stopping us to ask for this rather strange request. It can be quite intimidating as I´m sure you can imagine! India is also rather larger and having a friend by ones side somehow makes it a little less intimidating.

Anyhoo - this is me for now, updates to follow - sending love to you all - take care, much love - love me

The Bevsta's travels are back!

Two years after the great trek into the unknown, a new journey, into even further unknowns begins. Unrouted, unplanned, visa endorsed - it's me, my backpack, my most worthy of mention hiking boots and India...

Loving the virtual postcard (aka the blog) - should you want to get a glimpse of my travels, feel free to log on and meditate, elevate or levitate with me.

Namaste - The light in me honours the light in you

Summer, sunshine, happiness

Beautiful European buildings, luscious Latinos (the Argentineans really are a gorgeous bunch), gob-smackingly delicious food (an ice-cream a day became mandatory), colourful neighbourhoods, fabulous shopping, tango and a nightlife that only starts when the rest of the world is preparing for sleep – Buenos Aires is love.

Left to fend for myself, after becoming completely dependent on Nikki’s fluent Spanish and company, I was dropped of at La Paz airport at the crack of dawn to catch my 7.30am flight to Buenos Aires.

Feeling exhausted after not being able to sleep the night before and from the general confusion I found myself in at the airport, the last thing I was prepared for was a mad woman who had occupied my seat and was refusing to budge. After a heated conversation with the air hostess (I gather it was heated from all the grunting that was going on), I was moved to the seat behind the one I was supposed to be sitting in, minutes before taking off.

With my ears popping, feeling exhausted and the mad woman, who was firmly entrenched in my seat, turning around every five minutes to pull faces at me, we headed for Santa Cruz in Bolivia to catch a connecting flight to Buenos Aires (up until this point, I was under the impression that the flight was heading straight to Buenos Aires, Santa Cruz came as a bit of a surprise).

Ushered from one end of the airport to the other and after a thorough investigation from the narcotics bureau of Santa Cruz, I was allowed into international departures to catch my flight to Buenos Aires.

A poorly signposted airport, I had no idea which gate I would be departing from and after being directed to about five different areas from various airport officials, I was eventually taken under the wing of a well-intentioned Argentinean who instructed me to sit with him as he was on his way to Buenos Aires and would let me know when I needed to board. All was good and well, until it was discovered that he was on a different flight and that I had spent an hour in the wrong departure terminal.

On the verge of tears, I rushed off to find my friend in the narcotics bureau (the only English speaking person in the airport) and with minutes to spare, all flustered and hot, I boarded the correct plane to Buenos Aires.

The mad woman, thankfully, had been left behind in Santa Cruz, however, I found myself behind a screaming toddler and a very proud father who was trying to take pictures of his son with his mobile phone – um, last time I checked, wasn’t it illegal to have your phone on when flying?

Arrived in Buenos Aires, far too frazzled to figure out their public transport system and caught a very expensive taxi (about R110) to my hostel in San Telmo. An area which is home to artists, musicians and a Bohemian crowd, with its cobbled streets, fresh fruit markets and newly renovated buildings, San Telmo was the perfect little spot for me to spend my week in Buenos Aires.

After a quick shower, I slipped into the one and only summer frock that I had brought with me (and also the only clean piece of clothing in my back pack) and went off to discover the city of Buenos Aires. A city that feels as if it is riding on the wave of an exhalation after a deep breath, Buenos Aires, is stylish yet quirky, fun, frivolous and flirtatious.

In full summer swing after cold and rainy Bolivia, I headed into a salon for a little spoil – after all, feet can make or break that pair of summer sandals. Using equipment that belonged in a museum, and a magnifying glass with a bright bulb attached, the group of women operating the salon and my feet, could tell you a thing or two about the 1920’s – the era I’m guessing when most of them were born. Fearing for the safety of my feet at times, I managed to come out unscathed and found myself back in the same spot a week later – R30 for a manicure and pedicure, it was worth the risk.

After sussing out the area and feasting on a big bag of delicious and juicy cherries, I headed back to my boutique hostel, with clean, fluffy, white towels, to meet up with Matheus my dorm mate, who had offered to show me around town. The best thing about Buenos Aires is that you can walk practically anywhere, from San Telmo, to Puerto Madero, to La Boca, to Recoleta, it is safe and easy to get around.

With a vague grasp of the city and slightly better bearings than a few hours earlier, we went to a Thai restaurant for dinner – fresh vegetables, no parasites – YAY! Talking about parasites, I gathered Matheus was aiming for a goodnight smooch and cuddle, so I made sure to tell him all about my worms and may have added a few more nasty ailments. Nice guy, great personality (i.e. major nerd)… now, if he had been a luscious Latino!

Thankfully Matheus headed home the next day and was replaced by Palestinian girl from Jerusalem who works for the British government. Lubner was far more interesting and we had much more in common. When we weren’t spending time at the hostel speaking to the three Juan-Manuel's, who became known as Juan 1, Juan 2 and Juan 3, we were out shopping and exploring the city.

With regards to the three Juan’s; Juan 3 was the owner, Juan 2 worked at the hostel and Juan 1 was a friend of Juan 2, who was staying at the hostel, while his flat was being painted. They were the nicest group of Juan’s that I have ever met, all super friendly, helpful and interesting (fabulously good looking too).

Buenos Aires is shopping heaven – women, gay men and metro-sexuals unite! Affordable and unpretentious, yet stylish with a unique twist, it will not disappoint. Palermo, the centre of shopping in this thriving city, is home to trendy restaurants, funky bars and stylish boutiques. A glorious little find, I eventually had to put a ban on entering the area, as I could have and would have brought everything.

Other areas in Buenos Aires are equally as enchanting; Recoleta, a plush neighbourhood, where generations of Argentina’s elite rest in ornate splendour, in the Cementoria de la Recoleta, is home to a beautiful crafts market, with exquisite jewellery and leather goods.

La Boca, situated along the old port and at the mouth of the Rio Riachuelo, famous for its colourful, corrugated metal buildings called Caminitos, is home to local artists who display their brightly coloured paintings, while tango dancers perform on pavements and musicians play their instruments. This is where I spent my last day in Buenos Aires, soaking in the culture, eating delicious food and reflecting on the most perfect week.

The world's most dangerous road

Perched on the shoulder of Cerro Uchumachi, Coroico, with a population of 3 500 and at an elevation of 1 500 metres, is a little Bolivian Eden. Flanked by epic scenery and punctuated with waterfalls, the 80km La Paz-Coroico road plunges over 3000 metres. Because it sees the most fatalities annually, the road, which is extremely narrow, muddy and slippery, is called the ‘the world’s most dangerous road’.

Lonely Planet – South America on a shoestring

Sheez! I get sweaty all over thinking about this one. To brief you in from the last update, where Nikki and I were about to head off to the Salt Flats; our excursion became a logistical nightmare, with overbooked trains and dodgy public transport and half an hour before setting off to Uyuni, we found ourselves travelling along the world’s most dangerous road instead.

Both of us had been diagnosed with a case of worms, so in the end, a few days of rest and recovery from the nasty parasites having a big bash in our stomachs, was better for us anyway. Full of reckless abandon and desperate to get out of La Paz, Nikki and I chose Coroico. Three hours out of Bolivia’s capital, it is a magnificent little spot, nestled in amongst the mountains with beautiful scenery, gorgeous weather and zero pollution.

Boarding a mini-bus taxi, for a two hour journey that cost the equivalent of R15, we set off on the steep and windy road to Coroico. Our driver, who had one leg shorter than the other and a wicked sense of humour, was, despite his scant regard for taking over on white lines and in dark tunnels, actually a good driver. Minus a few near misses with other mini-vans and trucks, the trip to Coroico wasn’t too hair raising.

After three days of absolute calm and tranquillity, with hours spent lazing in hammocks, reading and resting at a hostel called Sol y Luna, for $10 per person per night, I felt fabulous and ready to take on 2007.

Meet driver number two - the treadless tyres should have been an indication of the trip to come, however, after being assured that all was in order and that the mini-van was in fact roadworthy, we boarded the beat-up vehicle to head back to La Paz.

A mere thirty minutes into the trip, the van started to overheat and eventually, spluttered to a stop. To spice things up, we realised, after close inspection of our surroundings, that our driver had taken an entirely different, more windy and treacherous route, from the one we had taken three days previously.

With the passengers collectively praying and the driver’s assistant feeding water into the van’s engine, which cut out every 20 minutes, we slowly made our way up the world’s most dangerous road.

Our driver, who at no point during our rollercoaster ride (minus the safety net and straps), offered an explanation or apology, dumped us in La Paz (five hours later) and we were sent off on our separate ways as if our lives had not been dangling 3000 metres from almost certain death.

Nerves frayed and feeling a lot less relaxed than a few hours previously, we booked ourselves into our hostel with hot showers and cable TV and watched reruns of ER and CSI until I had to leave early the next morning for Buenos Aires - the land of summer, sunshine and shopping.

Happy New Year